


One Winged Angel (Through the Table)

by CherryblossomBucks



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wrestling, Gen, Wrestling-Typical Violence, it's nibelheim but wrestling, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26508322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryblossomBucks/pseuds/CherryblossomBucks
Summary: Cloud barely has the time to duck under Sephiroth’s first strike, and that becomes the story of the match. He ducks and dodges, weaves around his opponent and wiggles his way out of holds before they can be properly applied, scrambles to put distance between them. He gets very few hits in, but that’s normal. Cloud isn’t much of a striker, relies more on momentum to make his offense impactful. Sephiroth isn’t giving him the time to build any with the way he’s chasing after him, quick and to the point as always, wasting no time on showboating.Up-and-coming indie wrestler Cloud Strife gets the chance to share the ring with his idol, the once-in-a-lifetime talent Sephiroth. He'd be deluding himself if he thought he could win this, but then, this is wrestling.
Kudos: 6





	One Winged Angel (Through the Table)

**Author's Note:**

> trying not to think about the amount of wrestling i have to catch up on while starting my fifth playthrough of the remake, and this is the obvious solution. the title is a joke but this isnt really a funny fic. i wouldve just named it 'one winged angel' bc of the double meaning it presents in this fic but like. thats very generic

”So, Zack, you don’t think Sephiroth will take offense at you handpicking his opponent tonight?”  
  
“What? No,” Zack laughs, “It’s not like that. I’ve been begging management to give Spike a chance to prove himself for months, and Seph knows that. Seph’s my buddy, Cloud’s my buddy – honestly I think as soon as the bell rings he’ll thank me, because we all know he’s awful at making friends outside of the ring, and they would get along great, I just know it!”  
  
“Cloud, this is your first time in a Shinra ring – how does it feel to be facing off against the world champion himself?”  
  
Cloud flinches at being addressed. He wasn’t expecting the interviewer to acknowledge that he was even there, not when _Zack Fair_ is standing right there. Zack is the star here, just a couple of years older than Cloud but already breaking into the main event scene of _the_ Shinra Wrestling Federation. Compared to that Cloud is a total nobody, just some random guy from the indies who stumbled into a friendship with him by being in the right place at the right time.  
  
He must have been staring at the reporter without answering for a little too long, because Zack nudges an elbow into his side, startling him into speaking, “Uh, yeah, it’s- It’s a, um, huge opportunity, and I’m just, really happy to get to share the ring with someone at Sephiroth’s level.”  
  
Gaia, what is he even saying? _I’m just happy to be here?_ Could he _get_ anymore awkward and generic? Stumbling all over it as well. Cloud can feel his face burning, can already imagine all the different ways the fans will make fun of him on the internet.  
  
Zack slings an arm around his shoulders, blinding grin still in place like Cloud didn’t just make a fool of himself on world-wide television. He sounds completely unruffled, _professional_ , when he says, “Sorry, I kinda sprung this on him last minute, I think he’s still in shock. But just wait ‘til you see him in the ring! He’s just amazing – SOLDIER’s honor.”  
  
The mention of SOLDIER – the faction that Zack is a part of – twists something inside of Cloud. He knows Zack has mixed feelings about the group after everything that’s happened in the past year. He knows that Zack is thinking about leaving, that he’s really only stayed this long to make sure Sephiroth had the emotional support he needed after Rhapsodos’ betrayal, and to use the leverage of the faction to get Cloud a foot in the door with the company. The scar where his face got busted open in his match against Hewley is still pink with how recent it is.  
  
“Way to take the pressure off,” Cloud snorts, hoping to distract both himself and Zack from the reminder. Zack just laughs, already turning to drag him away from the interviewer.  
  
“For real though,” Zack says when they’re safely away, low and serious, “Don’t worry about winning or getting the crowd on your side – if they don’t love you that’s their loss. Just focus on what you can learn, okay? To most of these people it’ll be a miracle if he doesn’t squash you in a few seconds.”  
  
“Nice to know you believe in me,” Cloud bites, more aggressive than necessary. He knows he has no chance in hell at winning this match but it still hurts to hear Zack all but say it. Zack’s arm is heavy around his shoulders, and when Cloud goes to shrug it off it just tightens, pulling him to a stop.  
  
“Hey,” Zack says, turning to face him, bending over a little to get on his eye level and switching his grip to hold Cloud’s shoulders by his hands. Cloud shifts his eyes to the floor to avoid looking at Zack’s frown, “You know I don’t mean it like that. I just don’t want you to beat yourself up because you set up some sort of ridiculous expectations for yourself. Maybe you can’t win this, but so what? This is _Sephiroth_ we’re talking about, he’s been in this business for a decade longer than you, he has a lot more experience and not even _I_ can keep up with his training regimen, but you can still give him hell. Every minute you stay in this match is a victory, and I’m gonna be proud as hell no matter what.”  
  
Zack pauses to let his words sink in, and Cloud can’t help the small smile that finds its way onto his face. Somehow, Zack always knows how to make him feel better. When he looks up through his lashes to meet Zack’s eyes, he can see a smile spread on Zack’s lips in response. It’s smaller than how he smiles for the cameras, but more genuine for it.  
  
“There you are,” Zack says, voice fond and holding his gaze. Then he sighs and straightens up, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, I gotta run, but I’ll be on commentary cheering for you, okay?”  
  
“Okay,” Cloud confirms, and with a last squeeze to his shoulders Zack bounds off to wherever he’s needed, leaving Cloud to make the last of the preparations for his match on his own.  
  


\- 

  
He gets a jobbers’ entrance. It’s not a surprise.

They give him some generic sounding rock track to appease the live crowd as he makes his way to the ring during an ad break. He doesn’t pause at the top of the ramp, doesn’t bother with any theatrics as he walks, focusing on keeping his face blank as he eyes the crowd, bigger than any he’s ever performed in front of before. He keeps his breathing steady and his steps even as he walks, and then he’s in the ring, leaning against the turnbuckles in the challenger’s corner with his arms crossed and his eyes closed.

Zack’s music plays, and Cloud opens his eyes to watch his friend make his way to commentary. He gives Cloud a grin and thumbs up when he passes by, and Cloud gives a queasy half-smile in answer. He keeps his eyes on Zack as he gets situated at the table but can’t hear what he says as greeting when he gets the headset on – they must have come out of the break.

Zack’s music fades out and Cloud takes a deep breath. He can’t stop the chill that runs through him as the strings of Sephiroth’s theme start up. Time feels like it’s moving in slow motion as he turns his eyes to the entrance ramp and watches Sephiroth – _his opponent_ – walk out.

The man looks like he’s gliding over the ground as he makes his way to the ring, his hair and coat moving gracefully with every step he takes. Sephiroth has no need for theatrics when his very presence is enough to steal the breath away from the crowd – and Cloud as well, for that matter.

Cloud knows he’s staring, but he can’t tear his eyes away from his opponent – his _idol_. Here is everything that Cloud could ever wish to be, right in front of him, and it still hasn’t really sunk in that this is who he’s fighting tonight. Cloud drinks in every movement as Sephiroth steps into the ring and sheds his coat, watches the way the wings printed on the back of his gear shifts with the muscles under them when he turns to acknowledge the crowd – one feathered and one skeletal; Cloud’s inner mark gushes about the _symbolism_.

Then, as the ominous melody of his theme fades into silence, Sephiroth stands in the middle of the ring and turns to Cloud. He holds a hand out towards him, and Cloud stumbles slightly in his haste to take it. The handshake is brief, and Sephiroth gives him a nod before he lets go, backing away as the ring announcer introduces them. Cloud follows his lead, rolling his shoulders and shaking his arms out in a last attempt at convincing himself that he’s ready for this.

The bell rings.

Cloud barely has the time to duck under Sephiroth’s first strike, and that becomes the story of the match. He ducks and dodges, weaves around his opponent and wiggles his way out of holds before they can be properly applied, scrambles to put distance between them. He gets very few hits in, but that’s normal. Cloud isn’t much of a striker, relies more on momentum to make his offense impactful. Sephiroth isn’t giving him the time to build any with the way he’s chasing after him, quick and to the point as always, wasting no time on showboating.

If this were any other match, with any other opponent bigger than him, Cloud would wait until the other got tired out, trusting his stamina to carry him through to that point, but this is Sephiroth. This is a man who can come out still standing after an hour-long match with Genesis Rhapsodos, and Cloud would be flattering himself if he thought he was as much as half as well-trained as either of them.

No, Zack was right. Cloud has no chance at winning this match, so instead he focuses on _surviving_ , drawing it out for as long as possible, getting the occasional chop and kick in when the opportunity arises before he’s dancing away again, twisting his arm or leg just so to prevent Sephiroth getting a grip on him. He’s lost all concept of how much time is passing, _every minute you stay in this match is a victory_ echoing through his head, and he counts those minutes in how much it hurts to breathe, how much sweat runs into his eyes, how many times Sephiroth lets his guard slip just enough for Cloud to squeeze through for a second.

And either time is speeding up, or that last part is happening more and more as the match goes on. If Cloud didn’t know any better he’d say Sephiroth was getting irritated. He knows it’s a favoured tactic of Rhapsodos’ to rile him up, but it rarely works with even the most carefully crafted pointed words, so to think that Cloud could get to him just by refusing to make himself an easy win? No way.  
In the end, it’s nothing more than a lucky shot that does it.

Cloud has no idea how he managed to buy himself enough time to even get onto the top rope, but the missile dropkick Tifa taught him forever ago strikes true. It’s pure muscle-memory to grab Sephiroth’s legs and fold him into a pin when they hit the canvas, and he’s already readying himself for the lunge to get away when Sephiroth inevitably kicks out. He pays no attention to the count of the referee, waiting for the slightest of movements beneath him to set him into motion.

Instead of Sephiroth, it’s the ring of the bell that has him moving. He’s already half-way across the ring when the sound catches up to him. The crowd _roars_ , the emotions expressed by the people in the crowd all blending together into a wall made of _noise_ , and Cloud jerks to a stop in the middle of getting to his feet, stumbling and falling back down to his knees.

His mind keeps trying to process what just happened and failing, so he swings his head around towards the commentary desk to search for an explanation from Zack. He finds Zack already in the process of throwing off his headset and within seconds the weight of his friend is slamming into him to draw him into a tight embrace.

Zack is yelling, a long string of just _Holy shit, Cloud_ over and over, which explains absolutely nothing. Still numb with chock he turns around just in time to watch Sephiroth drag himself into a sitting position, silver hair falling around his lowered head to obscure his face. The referee is already gone, vanished into the background with the sort of self-preservation needed for an official in this industry. Cloud often relies on that same thing after matches. It’s not uncommon for his opponents to underestimate him and then get pissed when he wins.

He’s usually ready for it. He can tell when someone is more bark than bite, when they haven’t done their research, relying on their own ego to see them through to the victory. Cloud always does his research. Too much research at times, he’s lost count of the amount of times Tifa’s had to confiscate his laptop because he kept obsessing over upcoming opponents. This time, though…

Nothing could have prepared him for this situation. The crowd and Zack are still screaming, but Cloud can’t hear them over his own panting breaths and the pounding of his heart. He can’t tear his eyes away from Sephiroth, who is still as a statue just meters away. He must be trying to process what happened as well, struggling just as bad as Cloud to understand. Time stretches out between them, and Cloud distantly registers when the crowd starts to grow quiet. He wonders briefly if Zack shouldn’t go say something to Sephiroth when his head starts to raise, silver hair framing it in shadow as he looks into Clouds eyes.

Suddenly, every instinct that he was too much in shock to register kicks into action, screaming at him to _run_. If his heart wasn’t already beating hard with exertion it would be beating out of his chest with panic, because Sephiroth’s face may be blank but his eyes are burning cold with fury. Cloud knows that look, knows what it means for anyone caught in Sephiroth’s way. He draws a sharp breath, hands coming up to push at Zack franticly, trying to draw his attention to what is happening and more importantly getting him out of the line of fire.

It’s too late. Sephiroth is up and across the ring with them in a flash, ripping Zack away by the back of his shirt and tossing him into the opposite corner. He hits the turnbuckles back first with a grunt of pain and slumps down, but Sephiroth is still staring at Cloud, keeping an intense eye contact that Cloud doesn’t dare look away from. Sephiroth fists a hand into Cloud’s hair and pulls him up on unsteady legs. He yanks Cloud’s head backwards and closes his other hand around his neck, squeezing.

“How dare you,” Sephiroth spits, crowding close and leaning down over him to sneer into Cloud’s upturned face. Cloud grimaces in pain, hands closing around Sephiroth’s forearm in a weak attempt at forcing him to let go. He can feel the way the muscles flex as Sephiroth’s grip tightens. His dangling feet are fighting for purchase on the mat, but there are spots dancing in his vision, and he can feel himself slipping away.

“Let go of him!” The yell sounds like it comes from miles away to Cloud, but Sephiroth is jerked away from him all the same. The grip around his neck falters and Cloud falls to his knees again, gasping and coughing for air. There’s the telltale slam of a body hitting the mat and the ring shudders with the force of it. Cloud doesn’t look up to see what happened. He’s curling in on himself, touching his hands to the tender skin of his throat where the bruising is already setting in. As if he can protect himself from something that has already happened.

“Cloud?” The hand settling into his hair makes him flinch, but it doesn’t grip, only runs gently over the back of his head, and when he chances a look up it’s the worried face of Tifa that greets him, there to save him as always, just like when they were teenagers and Cloud managed to piss off the wrong guy at a backyard show, “Cloud, are you okay?”

He barely has the time to wheeze out her name in response before a knee connects with the side of her face and she falls sideways from her crouch in front of him, slumping over, his saviour out cold before they could even try to get away. The painful hold in his hair is back again but only for a moment as Sephiroth throws him to the other side of the ring, towards the entrance ramp. Cloud does his best to mitigate the damage, but the lack of air has him disoriented and the rolling as he hits the canvas doesn’t help.

He ends up on his front on the apron, only barely stopping himself from falling off. It takes him a moment to get his elbows in under him and pushing up. Zack is in the corner in front of him, one arm around his midsection and a pained grimace on his face. There’s the tell-tale rattle of something being set up next to Cloud outside the ring, but he can’t look away from Zack.

“Get up,” Zack wheezes, and Cloud desperately hopes he hasn’t broken anything even as he goes to obey. He clings to the bottom rope, dragging himself upwards until he can switch his hold to the second. He’s barely standing by the time Sephiroth comes into his line of sight again. He’s outside of the ring, wearing his coat again. Cloud idly wonders why, and manages a single stumbling step towards him, not enough to stop him from grabbing one of Zack’s legs and pulling him out of the ring. The strangled cry Zack lets out as his back hits the floor distracts Cloud long enough to let Sephiroth disappear back around the table – where did that come from? – and get on the apron behind him.

He’s too occupied worrying about Zack that the head between his thighs doesn’t even register until he’s being raised up onto Sephiroth’s shoulders. He automatically steadies himself with a hand on Sephiroth’s head, but it’s not until one of his legs has already been shrugged of a shoulder and there’s a hand cradling the back of his neck and tilting him forwards that it clicks that oh, _this is Sephiroth’s finisher_. By the time he finishes that thought he’s already going though the table shoulders first.

The pain has him completely boneless where he lies in the shattered remains of the table, and as he fights a losing battle against unconsciousness, Cloud watches Sephiroth stalk off, coat fluttering behind him like a single black wing.

**Author's Note:**

> the joke is that sephiroths finisher is called the one winged angel. yes thats a real move, yes its named after sephiroth, and look, if i cant give sephiroth kenny omegas moveset in my own gd fic then what am i really writing it for huh


End file.
